Waiting
by kurt couper
Summary: Awaiting the war, everyone seems to stop, but not Malfoy. Hermione was actually grateful for Draco's same abrasive behavior. But is that all it is? [HermioneDraco] COMPLETE.


**AN: **Duing their 7th year, nothing really to say. This is my first non-smut HP oneshot. Enjoy.

Waiting.

Every granule of sand fell with such leisure that Hermione could see time itself rip apart at the seems. The grain tore through the air, slicing away the past, creating outwards ripples from the rupture, and then landed in the small pile formed at the bottom of the hour glass. It was times like these that the Head Girl wondered why time even existed. It was so demanding- _Another sand particle cursed through the air, almost stopping mid-decline as if all matter of time ceased_ -and never stopped.

Waiting.

Would all form and concept of time end if the day of reckoning came? Or would it still continue to tick away after humans left?

Waiting.

The hourglass, which sat at the end of Snape's desk, continued to drop sand. With each descend, student's heads would turn to view. Even the Professor, lecture still on the tip of his lips, would subtly crane his neck to follow the granule with his black eyes. There was only one person who was oblivious to it all or just neglected to care.

Hermione never thought she would become thankful for Malfoy's behavior.

Waiting.

The war was upon them, so close that the elderly could almost taste metallic bloodshed and the twang of excess magic in the air. As each second-_milli-second_-passed, the magic realm was one step closer to war, to innocent fatalities-_death_-and the lone fact that the other side could win.

From her desk, Hermione could see an eye twitch of a nameless student, hidden in the shadows. His dark hair swept across his clammy forehead and a shaky hand pushed a damp lock behind his ear. Behind her, she heard some Slytherin voices, tight with anxiety and maybe a hint of anticipation, bet on when the boy would loose it.

It sickened her, but in a way, it was slightly comforting. Not as-_negatively_-reassuring as Malfoy, with his still perfectly groomed hair and intimidating sneer, who, with just one glimpse, made Hermione believe that nothing had changed.

Waiting.

The Professor's thin lips are still moving, possibly instructing or scolding, but she doesn't hear any noise. It's a continuing silence, amplifying until her ears bleed with ringing and bells. A book clamored to the ground- _A grain plunges gradually, hitting the mound of sand's past with reverberation. Waves of sounds surge from the source and fill the room with visible impressions in the air_ -and most students noticeably stiffen.

Pushing escaped, auburn tresses behind her ear, she watched the sheepish Gryffindor blush furiously.

"Smooth, Longbottom," Draco smirked, his ash gray eyes flickering in hilarity at the contemptuous looks thrown his way. Intertwining his fingers, he rested the back of his head against it, making for a scene of complete relaxation.

Curious-_envious_-, Hermione implored the Slytherin Head Boy further. His demeanor was almost too calm, too reserved, too unaffected. The only thing out of place upon the boy was a few stray silky blonde hairs that fringed past his nose. An elegant eyebrow rose as the blonde met her questionable gaze audaciously. Flashing a challenging leer, she met his dare with a tilted chin and thinned lips.

Waiting.

Her attention is drawn from his- _Magnified, the last grain fell, slashing the dimension and exposing a new one with promises of better life and dreams just enough to tease the eye. But soon as the glowing edges are seen, the dimension merge back together, taking all hope with it_ -eyes and she backs up her books. The classes are over for today, leaving everyone to retreat to the back of their mind-_dangerous territory_.

Looking around, all Hermione sees are stiff forms and apprehensive movements all worn in gray. Colorful and exotic robes had blended into darker shades for hiding-_for not standing out_. No one gambles to be the first out of the wooden door, scared of what's outside the presumed safety of the classroom. Malfoy's the first and with long, graceful steps, he's out the door, many people-even Gryffindors-follow closely behind.

Waiting.

Quickly scurrying out of the Potion's classroom, Hermione walks the dungeons with caution in her step. With books in one hand and her quill, fisted like a dagger, in the other, the brunette realizes she disregarded the whole lesson. Her classmates ahead of her, dazed and weary, walk with their sullen heads down-_useless_. They probably paid as much attention to the lesson as her, or even less so. There'd be no likeliness she could get their-

Hermione hears a scuffle behind her-the sound of leather boots dragging against the cobble. She stilled her body, held her breath, and turned her head in the direction where she heard the sound.

Waiting.

_Nothing_.

Dismissing it to an overactive and paranoid imagination, she continued on her way to the Head dormitories and thought idly of taking a short nap before dinner. Lost in thought, she didn't hear-_feel_-a hand around her thin wrist until it was too late.

Forcefully, the calloused and slender hand drug her into a dark passageway, behind a statue that she didn't remember reading in _Hogwarts: A History_. Her books fell to the floor with a silent crash, making her wish that she had her wand in her hand instead of the feeble quill. The shadowed body, trim yet muscled, seized her other wrist above her head that had her standing on the tips of her toes.

"What did you want, Mudblood?" he growled, his head nuzzled in the crook of her neck which caused frightened-_tempted_goose bumps throughout her skin.

The Head Girl knew that voice anywhere and her body became solid in dread. _Malfoy_.

Waiting.

"Malfoy," she stated calmer than she felt inside.

His grip on her wrists became relentless and she let out a tiny cry that brought stubborn tears to the corner of her eyes. With the pad of his thumb, he wiped away the solitary tear that dropped. Irrationally, she wondered if he saw time split from the corners of the tear path like she did with the hourglass sand.

Dipping his hand further, his fingers played with the clasp on her robe. Hermione, fearful, clenched her eyes tightly, creating a few more tears to cascade down her pale cheek. The heavy robe fell from her shoulders, pooling at her mary-janes. Nimbly unbuttoning the first two buttons of her blouse, which left a hint of a white lacey bra to show, he pushed back part of the white collar.

Placing his palm over her rapidly beating heart, he bit the corner of his lip. "Scared?"

She nodded timidly, though she wasn't quite sure what he said. Her heart was beating too irately in the pit of her ears. Everything inside of her was telling her to be strong-_to be Hermione_-, but her adrenalin wasn't listening.

"You should be," he stated simply as his face blanked over and the pressure against her wrist became more intense.

With an intake of breath from the pain, she whimpered. "You're hurting me, Draco," she stuttered.

Immediately he withdrew and took a step back as if he just realized her touch was burning-_dirty_. With trembling fingers, she wiped off the tear stains on her cheeks. Bits of indigo ink smeared against the wetness. Using his thumbs once again, he mopped off the stain.

"Things are going to happen before you expect," he told-_warned_-her and looked her straight into her eyes.

It was then she realized that his calm pretense was just that: a front. The dark smoke of his orbs released the same panic she felt.

Waiting.

His cool hand inched its way up the outside of her smooth leg, startling her. His weight was upon her again, his knee holding her alongside of the stone wall. The tips of his fingers slowly crept up to the garter around the top of her thigh and traced the outline of the lace. Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled her wand from the hoister and trailed it back down the reverse of her leg.

A smirk tugged at the end of his lips as he shoved her wand into her chest. And without another word, Malfoy walked away with the graceful strides he graced so dearly.

Bewildered-_bemused_-Hermione took a steady breath and held her wand tightly in her hand. It ached from the pressure she was exerting on herself, but she didn't care. Disheveled with a rosy face and an unbuttoned blouse, she picks up her robe and books and continues on her way back to the Head dorms to take a nap, keeping in the light and staying out of the shadows.

Begin.

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R&R, i'd love your thoughts on this. 


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